cigarette
by Tohrue
Summary: ROXINE: One more cigarette and maybe she'd forget about him. ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨×»


**ROXiNE**

(our_love_should**BURN**)

xxxxx

**C**igarettes. She despised them with a burning passion. The way that the cancer sticks burned your esophagus and set your lungs on fire -- how could people possibly enjoy them? Despite the hate/hate relationship she shared with them, it didn't stop her frail fingers from triggering her lighter and setting off the white stick filled of poisons and toxins. Carefully it was held to her frighteningly pale lips as she took a deep inhale of its contents. In a matter of milliseconds, it filled up her mouth and dangerously lingered in there. The cigarette being pulled away however, she slowly motioned her lips into a circular shape and exhaled the smoke for temporarily relief of her mouth and lungs.

The shades of the apartment complex were half way drawn but it didn't matter today for on the outside world of their apartment it was a dark atmosphere. Rain was heavily pouring down and the only sign of light was those of the neon signs of strip joints, bars, and tattoo shops. There was no source of brightness in the living room and kitchen assortment except for the burning buds on her cigarette, the older jukebox's screen in the corner of the room, and the dimmed flickering light of the kitchen stove.

Sitting in the corner of the couch, dangerously tiny legs were halfway drawn to her chest as hollow eyes peered out the windows. Except for the fact that she had to tap the cigarette into the ash tray every few moments, you would have assumed she was dead if not for that temporary movement. Jazz music flowed sadly yet slowly and beautifully yet tragically, out of the jukebox; almost making it the perfect composition for the raining day. 'Perfect suicide music,' the cashier had said to her while purchasing the exact record at an old pawn shop few weeks ago.

Of course, 'suicide music' hadn't been really her taste up until a few months ago.

In fact, cigarettes really hadn't been her thing either until a few months ago.

She had discovered though, that they were the two next best things to him. Both soothing and hard to quit, they of course could never come to exactly compare.

One afternoon about a year ago when they had been an ice cream shop, she'd pulled out a single cigarette from her purse and lit it with a newly bought lighter. A too quick of an inhale was taken -- obviously from being a virgin smoker --, and soon she was coughing as if she'd been induced with some sort of hacker's cough.  
_  
'I didn't know you smoked. When did you start smoking?"_

_'I've only done it one other time. I thought I would try again.'_

_'You know, smoking is dangerous. It can be addicting if you get hooked.'_

_'Well, you should have told me that about you when we met.'_

_'.. Yeah, well, don't do it. Love isn't as bad as smoking is.'_

_'It can be.' _

**O**f course now, he wasn't around to slap her wrist and tell her that she was endangering herself. He wasn't around to warn her how she was frying up her lungs with every inhale she took. And when she did get to see him, it was now in the corner of the huge lot of land underneath the dead birch tree. She hardly ever went, though. In fact, she hardly went anywhere. The only time she found herself willing to get up and move from the couch was when it was time to change the record on the music machine or head downstairs and down the street to get a new carton of cigarettes. However, the only times she found herself needing to change the record on the player was when she was afraid it might melt from being on constant run on repeat.

And for when she needed a new carton of cigarettes? No, it wasn't about the fact that she was heavily addicted and would fall over if she went more than 20 minutes without one; she could honestly say she could quit whenever she wanted. When she did find herself yearning for a new carton of a new brand of cigarettes, it was when she was drowning in him. When he was so heavy on her mind that it made her queasy. When he made her desperate for his kiss that she needed something just as good. When he made her cry so much that she needed to find comfort in something.

With the hand that was not occupied by the almost smoked cigarette, it carefully reached into the interior of her pocket. A clutter of jingling came from inside the white exterior and soon, a few pairs of keys were pulled out. Her legs she soon fully rested down on the couch and pulled to the ground seconds later as her dress came back to it's original shape. Standing up, she tapped the final but of the cigarette into the tray.

She was heading to the store for another pack of cigarettes.

xxxxx

_Tohrue's Note: _

mm. i was in a total** ANGST**LOVE mood. :  
tell me what you think?

**lovel**ove_love_


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